


We Were Victims of the Night

by SpicyCheese



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, followed by light bondage?, ish, light dancing, there's no angst so...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw’s jaw clenches and unclenches for a moment before she grits out again, “I said, <i> ‘Dance with me’.”</i> The <i> ‘-you moron’ </i> following the request was unspoken but definitely implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Victims of the Night

*_*_*_*_*

 

It’s been a rather dull evening.

Their number is a senator and she and Shaw had to dress to the nines to blend into the campaign fundraising ball. The crowd is as stiff as one would expect, but there's an open bar and a buffet so at least Shaw is happy.

Appetizers have come and gone and as dinner wraps up the string quintet shifts from filler music to something more upbeat for dancing. Root divvies her attention between their number (who is currently holding court in the corner with a gaggle of silver foxes) and scanning the crowd and dance floor for potential threats or victims. She must have been focused because she doesn’t notice that Shaw has finished with the dregs of the buffet until the woman is standing in front of her.

“ _What?”_ Root asks. The music must have truly distorted whatever it was Shaw said because there was no way she was hearing it accurately.

Shaw’s jaw clenches and unclenches for a moment before she grits out again, “ I said, _‘Dance with me’_.” The ‘- _you moron’_ following the request was unspoken but definitely implied.

It’s so absurdly unexpected that Root considers asking the Machine to run a diagnostic test to make sure her implant is functioning. Ultimately it’s Shaw’s extended hand, still hanging awkwardly between them, that finally makes her believe she heard correctly.

She spares a glance over her shoulder at the senator and finds the woman still well occupied and accounted for. Satisfied, Root decides to indulge her curiosity and takes the offered hand. She lets Shaw drag her roughly through the crowd and it’s not until they arrive at the small patch of unoccupied dance floor that Root realizes her error. Mentally searching through her rolodex of learned and programmed social norms she realizes dancing (at least this kind) is not something she ever felt the need to learn. With that gaping hole of information acknowledged, she glances around quickly at the other couples, gathering whatever data she can.

She moves a tentative hand to Shaw’s waist to emulate the form she observes but is quickly swatted off. “ _I’m_ leading,” Shaw growls, rolling her eyes and repositioning Root’s limbs accordingly. Before Root can say anything else, Shaw starts moving and Root does her best to keep up.

Root’s always felt it was a cruel twist of fate that the body she inhabits would be so tall and awkward. Outside of obvious attraction, she has always envied Shaw for her more compact and efficient frame (as well as the comfort with which she engages all things physical). Root has spent a lifetime trying to assimilate to her body and any grace or fluidity of movement she manages (including use of guns) has only come after hundreds of hours of tedious practice. Now, faced with a completely novel activity, she’s reduced to long awkward limbs once more. She swallows her discomfort though, opting to focus on not tripping over either of their feet instead.

“Orange Peel?”

Root feels the words growled into her collar bone and it vibrates up through her. It’s Shaw’s safe word. Out of context, it takes Root a moment to process that this is Shaw’s way of checking in with her- of seeing if Root is okay with what’s happening. As always, Shaw’s concern for her well being is almost too much to absorb. She does her best to quell it and she manages a nod, her chin almost resting on the top of Shaw’s head.

“Okay, than _relax_ , will you?” Shaw’s breath is hot on her skin and it ignites a very different train of thought. Root happily lets herself be distracted by those, letting her mind fill with ideas for later – she has a new toy she wants to try out- and before she knows it, the song has ended.

The dancers pause to applaud the musicians and through the din, Root leans in close to Shaw’s ear. “Might I ask what _that_ was all about?”

Rather than answer, Shaw’s attention shifts to something just behind Root. "Looks like the senator is on the move. Let’s go.” She shoulders Root roughly as she passes by, leaving the taller woman no choice but to table the questions she has and join the hunt.

 

*_*_*

 

“ _What?_ ”

Root’s nail etches a meandering trail on Shaw stomach. The lines flashing white before fading back. “I said, ‘ _You never answered my question’_...”

Hands bound to the headboard behind her, Shaw lifts her head and squints through her haze of arousal at Root. “What question?”

“About the dancing.”

Shaw snorts, and flops her head back down, mumbling, “I should have known...”

“That’s not an answer,” Root chides, raking all ten nails down Shaw’s thighs, eliciting a hiss that’s more pleasure than punishment.

“Why don’t we just focus on the task at hand?” Shaw offers, hips chasing the contact as Root’s fingers move on, roaming back up and just shy of where she wants them most.

Shaw lets out a frustrated growl when Root responds by removing her hands entirely. Shaw lifts her head again and sees Root sitting back on her heals, settled in and prepared to wait for a more satisfactory answer.

It’s a standoff, but one that doesn't last long. Shaw’s body is still buzzing and considering her compromising position, she doesn’t have much choice but to answer. She rolls her eyes, and flops her head back down on the pillow once more. “Look, it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Considering the circumstances.”

“Our number was well occupied, our covers secure, and last I checked Viennese Waltzes were not standard operating procedure for stakeouts.”

“It wasn’t _Viennese_ and I didn’t mean for the stakeout,” Shaw says slowly, still addressing the ceiling rather than Root.

“What circumstances then?”

“You know…” She drawls, nodding vaguely at the space between them.

Root’s brain whirrs to put the pieces together and actually cannot believe the conclusion she comes to. “So, if I’m understanding this correctly, because you and I…” She skips over what they’ve spent a long time avoiding defining and moves on. “…you thought we should dance together?”

There’s a pause. It’s not long, but it’s long enough. Shaw sighs, eyes still fixed pointedly on the ceiling. Part of Root knows that pushing for an explanation is toeing a line of sorts between them, but the passive affirmation is just too much to let go. Root clamors her way up Shaw’s body, straddling her hips, and leans forward until her face is directly in Shaw’s gaze once more. “ _Sameen."_

Shaw sighs again, glancing to the side. "It’s what people _do_ , right?”

 _‘But we're not_ _people’_ Root thinks, and from the profile of Shaw's furrowed brow she wonders if she said it out loud or if Shaw was just thinking it as well. “You know I don’t need that.”

“Did I say _you_ did?” It comes out harsh, but it looks like Shaw was the one who was bit. “Look, it was just a thing in the moment that I wanted to try. Don't blow a microchip.”

Now it’s Root’s turn to feel hurt. They’ve been so in sync for so long, that she’s forgotten how different they can be. Shaw enjoys her physicality, enjoys touch and sensation- closeness. For Shaw, those things are less the reminders of a flawed humanity and more of a way of reveling in it.

The more Root processes, the more it does make sense. Shaw likes many, many different physical sensations and indulgences, why should dancing be any different? Like any of those physical needs, it would have been easy for Shaw to satiate it elsewhere. There were many other dancers in the room clearly exhibiting their skill and experience, yet she chose Root. 

She adds this fact plus Shaw’s words about the ‘circumstances’ and the sum causes a warm feeling to sprout in her chest. It winds all the way up and ends in the smile that blooms full blown on her face. Practically vibrating with this knowledge, she lowers herself until her full weight is resting on Shaw below. Root rolls her hips, and Shaw (with a poorly repressed moan) finally turns her attention back to the woman above her.

“So?” Root asks, hips still grinding slowly and hands resuming their separate journeys over Shaw’s bare torso.

“So what?” Shaw tries for annoyed but her voice betrays her as much as her body does.

“You said it was something you wanted to try. How do you think it went?”

“I think you have two left feet,” she mumbles, hips jutting in response to a particularly sharp pinch on her nipple.

“You know,” Root purrs, leaning down over Shaw’s chest. “I like to try new things too.”

“Yeah?” Shaw breathes, as Root begins nipping and licking her way down Shaw’s already sensitive torso.

“Mmhmm… in fact, I have something new here if you’re interested…”

Shaw’s nod is almost comically emphatic and Root slips off the end of the bed to fetch the item in question from her bag. Returning, she grins again, watching Shaw’s body writhe impatiently below her.

“I might have two left feet,” she says, resuming her position between Shaw’s legs. “But I think I can prove I know a thing or two about rhythm…”

Root’s not sure if the subsequent groan is in response to the joke or the physical pleasure. Either way, it’s all the confirmation that she needs.

 

*_*_*_*_*


End file.
